Don't worry, it's written on our skins like it's written in the stars
by Gwenchan93
Summary: The first word your soulmate will tell you is written on your skin in the language they'll say it. And don't worry, you'll eventually meet, in this lifetime or another. "The first time Victor is a young prince at the Czar's court and Yuri's an artisan in some Japanese unknown village, both barely aware of the existence of the respective countries."


**Don't worry, it's written on our skins like it's written in the stars**

The first time Victor is a young prince at the Czar's court and Yuri's an artisan in some Japanese unknown village, both barely aware of the existence of the respective countries. They don't meet in this life, carrying on a pitiful existence as the mark on their wrists, written in an unknown language, cast on them the stigma of prejudice. Victor marries a fellow noblewoman and uses a golden bracelet to hide the strange symbol on his fair skin. They told him it's the writing used in the Far East, from where the soft silk came. He marries for political reason knowing his true soulmate is a person who speaks a language he doesn't understand and will never be able to find. He carries on with his life not knowing that on the other side of the world a Japanese man drown in solitude, as people throw stones at him and cry "Go away, oni's son!"

The second time things don't change much, only that their roles are reversed. Victor's a poor farmer and Yuri's the member of a powerful samurai clan. It doesn't matter. Victor's can hardly write down his own name, let alone read the strange signs on his shoulder, the ones the priest burns saying they're a mark of the Devil. Yuri's mark, on his side, is transformed in the clan tattoo crest.

"Forget about it!" his grandfather orders him, as ink poisons his skin and happiness.

The third time Yuri's a plump Japanese nurse and Victor's a wounded prisoner in the Japanese-Russian war. The man's burnt face is almost unrecognizable and when he speaks his voice is low and creak. "Water" is the first thing he asks, in Russian. Yuri, whose name in this life isn't Yuri, complies, too busy to think about that four letters that read вода in the crook of her left knee. She doesn't think about how her parents were planning to save money to send her to Russia, hoping that a year would be enough to find her right soulmate.

"Better?" she asks. As the man nods, his eyes go wild with realization. He grabs her wrist with the force of desperation and jerks his head to the side, tilting it toward his forearm. The woman's hands tremble as she pushes the pyjama sleeve up to the elbow to reveal a scattered mark in familiar hiragana. She feels tears filling her eyes as she writes down her own mark on a piece of paper and put it under the man's nose.

"Voda" he gurgles on the verge of death. "Mizu."

This lifetime they meet, but they don't have time.

The fourth time Victor's a ballerina, silver hair held in a tight bun and lovely calves aching on the stage, and Yuri's a flute player, under the very same stage. They're so near they probably have already exchanged some quick glances, in the rush that precedes an important show. If it were visible, they would even see the red, thin string connecting their pinkie fingers together. This time they are open-minded and acculturated enough to understand what is written on their skin. "No," reads in Russian the one on Yuri's right hip and it's strange to know he'll start his soulmate relation with a negation. Meanwhile Victor caresses the Japanese letters on her ankle, before wrapping her pointed shoe laces around it. They spell "hurt".

They both plan to travel around the globe; they both practice till their feet and fingers and lips bleed to be on the world's most famous stages, hoping to meet their other half in the crowd.

They don't really meet in this lifetime. They pass next to each other in the hallway of the theatre, shoulders brushing, but in the rush they don't speak. It should be easy, as they already know what they're supposed to say. Yuri would ask, "Are you hurt?" in a polite voice and the Victor of this reality would answer "No".

It doesn't happen and when realization hits them, it's already too late.

The fifth time they are both males again. They don't remember their precedent lifetimes, so the surprise of having foreign words on their skin is the same of the first time. "Your name?" Yuri reads in Western alphabet, twisting his head to see the mark on his upper back, strong muscles flexing in the mirror. It's not very useful when you're a prostitute and potential client always, always, ask your name. Yuri hides behind a pseudonym most of the time, when he's not saying something cheesy like "I can be whomever you want."

And besides it's not use, when all his clients are Japanese men like him. Some of them are gentle; they treat him like a porcelain doll. Others are rough, but not cruel. Others still care only to fuck his body.

This is why when the owner of the house introduces him to two European guests, Yuri's heart makes a backflip down in his stomach. One of them, silver fringe hiding his left blue eye, asks his name and for once Yuri doesn't feel the need to lie.

"Yuri," so he answers. The stranger shows him the palm of his own hand. "Yuri, like this?" he questions in broken Japanese. Yuri nods.

In this lifetime Victor's some kind of businessman always travelling for work. He's been married for already ten years when he meets Yuri and despite all he doesn't feel like abandon his wife. In the end he doesn't even cheat on her, and just spend the night drowning in Yuri's pleasant words. After all the idea of visiting a brothel has been Chris', not his.

In the end Yuri receives in a night the money he normally gains in a month of work and Victor promises to come again. He does it. This lifetime they meet again and again, lingering in the dream of what their life could have been.

The sixth time everything seems to be perfect. They are girls, with different names and different hair colours, studying elbow-to-elbow in the same chemistry course. They know they're soulmates, no doubt about it, and together they plan both their career and private life. They walk down the college aisles, hand in hand, beaming with love, mouths giggling.

They argue about wedding dresses and wedding rings. They wish for a house full of dogs – and maybe a kitten. They dive deep in learning the respective native languages. They have fights and they make up. They're basically the epitome of the perfect couple.

This time everything seems perfect, but seems is the key word, as they have not considered a drunk driver on a cold October night.

The seventh time Yuri's again a girl, while Victor's back to be a boy. The seventh time they simply don't meet.

The eighth time their roles are reversed and for a strange trick of Fate, they are Web pen pals for a while. The problem is that the soulmate mark must be a spoken word, not a written one and in this lifetime they never speak. Eventually they forget about each other. The ninth time is so dull it isn't even worth telling.

The tenth time Yuri knows Victor way before they meet in person. He spends his afternoons with eyes glued to the screen, captivated by Victor's smooth skating. Sometimes he dares to daydream about Victor Nikiforov being his soulmate, when days seem too grey and fantasies are a nice way to escape the anxiety that tightens his chest. He grows up with Victor's face plastered all over his bedroom walls.

In this lifetime Victor doesn't have any soul mark. His body has been thoroughly scanned, only to confirm the fact that there isn't a word on his skin, not even a letter. Markless people are rare, but they exist, usually destined to be bound to someone who is mute.

Growing up, every time someone doesn't answer his attempt to start a conversation, Victor always asks to see their soulmate marks. He knows it's rude, but he can't stand the thought of not knowing who his soulmate is.

On the other hand, under Yuri right foot it's written "a commemorative photo?" in English.

The first person to ask him it isn't Victor, though, but a young man in Detroit Yuri dates for a while. However soon things start to get ugly, until Yuri insists to see that mark the other is so adamant in hiding. The words he reads aren't his. They break soon after.

The experience is still lingering in some place of Yuri's mind, poisoning him with the idea he'll always be mistaken about finding his soulmate, when Victor offers a commemorative photo. This is why Yuri turns his back on the Russian man, who by this point has already got tired of the habit of checking the mark of every person he meets.

But in this lifetime, Fate is determined to sort things out. So they dance together during an otherwise boring banquet and when Yuri considers retiring, it's in the hand of three six-years old girls to adjust the strings of destiny.

When Victor knocks on Yuri's door, the younger man is too surprised to even think about that first small dialogue they have had some month before. As months pass and their relationship blooms, Yuri finds himself torn between the hope of dilating his time with Victor ad infinitum and the dread of its inevitable ending.

"Tomorrow I'll ask him," he says, as he looks in the mirror, but then he continues to procrastinate. Yuri believes Victor's soul mark to be probably in some private or difficult to reach body part, as he hasn't still seen it despite having bathed together.

He sets on giving back Victor to the world when the season would've ended.

"Just for this moment," he prays, as he slides a golden ring on Victor's ring finger. "Just for this moment," he thinks as he climbs his way to the GP Final.

That missed quad flip is like being stabbed in the chest.

"Let's end this," and while saying it, Yuri isn't referring only to Victor's being his coach. No matter how much his own heart is suffering, he has no right to pretend Victor is his soulmate. He's determined to do it, no matter how much Victor will protest or how much it will hurt.

"Yuri, I know what your soulmate mark says. I've seen it when I helped you stretching in the hot spring," Victor replies instead. Yuri shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter. You're not the first person to ask me a commemorative photo before saying anything else."

Victor pauses for a while, tears still wetting his pale cheeks. "Yuri, do you want to see my mark?"

Yuri nods. "I've always wondered where it is, since I've never seen it despite having seen you naked a lot," he adds, with a little chuckle. He blushes when Victor moves from the window on the bed and slowly undresses his bathrobe. "Come! Let's see if you can find it," Victor invites him and the request's so absurd and embarrassing, Yuri can't help but complies. His fingers trail every centimetres of Victor body, his armpit, his inner thighs, the shell of his ears, and the soles of his feet.

"I can't find it," he surrenders, realising the absence of words even on Victor's sex. "You don't have a mark," he dares to speculate. Victor's lips curl a little upward, almost as he's waiting for Yuri to put together all the pieces. When Yuri finally does, it's like the time has stopped.

"I can't believe it. Gosh, it's … I just can't believe it," Yuri babbles, as Victor's smile become a grin.

This time things will go well, they have no doubt.


End file.
